


walk me home

by Meridas



Series: warm, unalone (come settle down) [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, First Meetings, Gen, Genderfluid Mollymauk Tealeaf, Other, Pre-Relationship, Queerplatonic Molly/Yasha, Queerplatonic Relationships, Slice of Life, aka how Molly and Yasha started their lives in modern Zadash, feat. handsome nerd professor Caleb Widogast, the domestication of adventurers and carnival folk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridas/pseuds/Meridas
Summary: Molly and Yasha are new in town. Somehow or another, they land on their feet.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Series: warm, unalone (come settle down) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607398
Comments: 11
Kudos: 94





	walk me home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Eileen and Silk for taking a look at this for me and encouraging more circus kids shenanigans <3 The title for this one comes from Walk Me Home by P!nk, which is also on the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5IOmrLYqkrz9uPFzBTprCn?si=73GlYEA-QXSaS8m5gjmrFA) for this series!

It’s raining the first day Molly and Yasha set foot in Zadash. Not the kind of rain that calls her away, thankfully, because at that moment Molly’s not sure either of them could bring themselves to let go of the other. Everything that used to be their home is in the dust behind them, torn apart and parceled out in a hurry so that when they scattered across the continent none of them would be left with nothing. In less than a week, the life that had found them both and welcomed them in, had saved them from emptiness and anger, was stuffed down to two patched-up backpacks and a small package hurriedly pressed into Molly’s hands as Gustav ushered them onto a bus.

But Molly and Yasha have each other, and an address, and a set of keys in Molly’s pocket. It will have to do. 

They find a minute of respite in a small coffee shop full of old chairs tucked away in odd corners. Molly takes a moment to breathe, settle down, take his glasses off and scrub his hands over his face. With a quiet sigh, he tucks them into his pocket instead of putting them back on. Everything in the coffee shop is nicer when it’s a little less in focus, all soft browns and nice greens. Feels less like an impending headache, more like the comfortable familiarity of any random cafe along the road. If he lets it get a little fuzzy he can push away the idea that he might get used to this one, might be stuck in one place for longer than he’s ever been before. 

Yasha joins him on a reasonably comfortable couch, carefully carrying two mugs topped with whipped cream. "I don't know what this is," she admits as she hands one to Molly. "I asked her for something fun. I think she said something caramel? Is that a coffee flavor? There's a very excited loud girl over by the pastry counter so I didn't hear her very well." 

Molly gives her a smile as he takes his cup and tucks himself into his corner of the sofa. "Doesn't seem like a bad place to be a regular, if caramel coffee is a thing. Lots of students here, enough other odd folks to make it interesting." There's some fancy caramel salt decorating the whipped cream on his cup. Molly licks it experimentally. 

“Hm.” Yasha gazes out the window. Molly has been largely averting his gaze from the building across the street, with mysterious boarded-up windows and a gate over the door. The key to that gate is burning a hole in his pocket. He takes another lick at the whipped cream. 

"Do you think we'll stay here?" Yasha asks him, quiet and contemplative under the busy noise of the cafe. "This is… I mean, it's where Gustav told us to go, but he hasn’t been back here in years. Do you think it’s a good place?" 

Molly sighs. "Honestly I don't know, Yash," he admits wearily. He cradles his drink close to his chest, precious caffeine when he suddenly feels _so tired_. "I don't—I never knew they even had a bolthouse in Zadash. I don't know." He takes a deep, fortifying drink of his latte. "I don’t wanna deal with it."

A small smile twitches at Yasha’s lips, and she takes the familiar cue to kick Molly gently in the shins. “I think we need to deal with it.”

Molly sighs deeply. “Yeah, I know.” He stumbles to his feet, and offers his hand to Yasha. "Let's go deal with it."

* * *

If Molly had formed any expectations of Gustav and Desmond's secret city hideaway, the little shop across the street wouldn't meet any of them. First of all, it's not really a livable space: no kitchen, only storage upstairs, no good places to sleep although Molly and Yasha have both slept in worse. Second, it's full of what seems to be a bunch of junk.

"Where the fuck did all of this come from?" Molly wonders aloud, staring at a teetering bookshelf full of novelty salt and pepper shakers. He tilts his head fully to the side. No, it doesn't make any more sense from that angle, either. 

"There's a back room," Yasha calls from deeper inside the building. "Windows are still boarded back here, it looks all clear." 

Molly huffs, standing in the center of their weird new shop and putting his hands on his hips. "Alright," he announces, "well, it'll do for the night then. I'm getting our sleeping bags out and you'll have to carry me out if you have any complaints."

"No, that's fine," he hears even more faintly than before. He wonders what Yasha may have found back there. Honestly, looking around the front of the place, he hasn't the faintest fucking clue.

"I mean, what do we do with this place?" Molly says, shouts really, his voice bouncing around the odd and cluttered shop. 

There's a muffled curse, a crash, and then Yasha pops around the corner covered in dust. She raises her eyebrows at him and hoists a crate of very dusty bottles onto the counter between them. "I have an idea we can start with."

* * *

"Antique shop."

"What do you know about antiques?"

"Older than me."

"I think this _wine_ is older than you."

"It is pretty nice wine, isn't it? … Wine shop?"

"Now we're talking. Give it back here."

* * *

"You could be a barber here! We can call it the _Barberian_."

" _Molly._ "

"The _Babe-barian_."

"All I have is my sword!"

"That'll be our selling point! It's good enough for me, isn't it, you're a very light touch with that thing, surprisingly delicate and very effect— _feck!_ "

* * *

"... Well now we need to buy more pillows."

"I bet there's some weird ones in here somewhere."

* * *

“Hey… Molly?”

“Mmrr?”

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

"... me, too."

* * *

The next morning dawns way too bright and early for Molly’s liking. Their new domain is no less dusty or cluttered than when they went to sleep, and in the absence of any better plan, Molly rolls up his sleeves and goes back to the cafe. First things first, after all.

"I brought you coffee," Molly hollers, letting the door fall closed behind him. 

"I'm back here!" There's a heavy thud from the back room, but no sound of things breaking. 

Molly leans against a long counter, idly drawing patterns in the dust settled on its top. “Find anything good?” he calls, taking an experimental sip of today’s fancy-sounding coffee. This one is something lavender-honey with lots of thick foam. If they’re going to be in Zadash for a while, Molly’s going to try all the weird coffee flavors at the very least. 

“Actually, I think so.” Yasha emerges from the back room. Her hair is pulled up into a bun and full of dust already. She takes the offered coffee and crouches down behind the counter. Molly leans over with her, peering over her shoulder. “There’s not really a lot here that makes it a good place to stay. If we are going to stay in the city, we might have to find a place to, you know, actually live.”

“I think the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place is two months,” Molly says, frowning slightly. “D’you think we’ll be here longer than that?” 

“Was that the place where Mona and Yuli were doing the—”

“The switching twins thing, yeah, I forget what that town was called. There was really great food there, though.”

“Mm. Pancakes?”

“ _Yes_ , that was it, the place with the pancakes!” 

“Well, if we _do_ stay here longer than the pancake place, I think I found some good news.” Yasha hands her coffee back to Molly, then lifts a loose board out of the floor. 

Molly raises his eyebrows. “I really shouldn’t be surprised by Gustav’s tricks anymore. Clever bastard.”

“It’s nothing really _bad_ ,” Yasha says, pulling a small box free of the floor. “It looks like some of the papers are legitimate, copies of the deed and that. It matches the old records that he gave you, I think he really does own this place.”

“Won it in a card game, you think?” 

Yasha smiles and puts the box carefully back under the floor. “If it was, he cleaned up very well. There’s a pretty nice nest egg here. I think… I think he really did want to give us a chance here, Molly.”

“Yeah, looks that way.” Molly stares at the floor as Yasha puts the loose board back in place, tapping his fingers on the top of his coffee up. He feels a little queasy now, off-kilter and trying hard not to spiral. It’s one thing to claim he’ll always land on his feet, but truth be told Molly’s never taken a fall quite this far before. And never without backup, without Gustav’s schemes and Desmond’s experience, without the whole carnival there for him to fall back on. 

Without thinking about it, his tail loops securely around Yasha’s ankle. Maybe they’ve never taken this kind of leap on their own before, but if he had to pick just one person he’d pick Yasha any time.

"Um, _hallo?_ "

Molly and Yasha look at each other, eyes wide. There’s a person in their… shop? Building? Molly had left the door unlocked and apparently that meant that people would just wander into it.

For the moment, they’re both hidden from the door behind the counter. Yasha moves her hands, silently asking _Should I hit him?_

Molly shakes his head. _We can’t just hit people! We’re new here!_

Yasha shrugs helplessly at him. _Fuck it_ , Molly signs, and sticks his head up above the counter. "Yeah? What? Who are you?"

There's a tall, somewhat shabby-looking ginger by the door. He jumps at the sound of Molly’s voice, and oh wow those eyes are blue. Molly boosts himself up onto the counter and swings his legs over. Hopefully he looks smooth and flexible instead of utterly faking it. He's coasted farther on less before. 

"My, ah, my name is Caleb Widogast," the redhead says, blinking rather quickly as he takes Molly in. Molly glances down at himself. He's not even wearing his full eye-searing circus regalia, just his favorite leggings and a tank top that he thinks used to be… curtains? Certainly not the worst-dressed he's ever been, though perhaps it's more patterns at one time than mister blue eyes and patchy coat is used to.

"Anything I can do for you, Mister Caleb?" Molly prompts him, swinging his tail lazily back and forth. 

"Um… _ja,_ my apologies, your sign in the window said you were open, and I saw some books in your window display that—"

"We have a sign?" Molly blurts out. 

Caleb just looks at him for a moment, brow furrowed in some internal dilemma. Admittedly, that _is_ a look that Molly is used to having leveled in his direction. 

“I was wondering if any of these books are for sale?” he finally says, sounding somewhat pained. “I, ah, I teach at the university here in town, and I have seen the collections in the windows here over the years, but no one has ever actually opened the shop. This… is a shop, correct?”

“It… might be,” Molly says, rocking back on his heels.

Caleb tugs awkwardly on his scarf. “Perhaps the ‘open’ sign was simply decorative.” 

Molly can’t stop the snort of laughter that escapes him. “I’d say there’s a lot in this place that could be called decorative, if you’re feeling very generous.” He waves his hand vaguely at a dining table stacked with colorful lampshades. “But if you want some books I don’t really… see why not? I don’t think we’re planning on keeping them?” 

Instantly Caleb perks up again, and Molly can’t help but smile at him in return. “Wonderful! How much are you asking for them?”

“Uh…” Molly glances over his shoulder. Yasha looks at him and takes a long, slow drink of her coffee.

"Tell you what, Mister Caleb," he says, gathering up his charm and confidence into the winning smile of someone who might actually have the first fucking clue how much old books cost. "We haven't really gotten a chance to do inventory and all that just yet, but why don't you pick one to take with you now, say for a moderate gold piece, and come visit us again some time to see what other books we uncover." 

The smile that lights up Caleb's face might mean that Molly's practically giving a book away, but in Molly's opinion the prospect of seeing a handsome new neighbor again is worth a lot more than a dusty tome any day. He pockets Caleb's coin and watches rather unsubtly as he takes his time looking carefully at each of the three books stacked in the window display. Molly doesn't recognize the language he mutters to himself in, but it sounds lovely nonetheless. 

Finally, Caleb holds a dusty volume bound in green cloth to his chest and smiles at Molly again. "Thank you very much. I will look forward to coming back sometime, ah…" 

"Mollymauk," Molly says, and sticks his hand out. "Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends, and if you come by a second time I'd say that's good enough to make us friends, Caleb."

"I will be sure to see you a second time, then," Caleb replies with a small smile. "Until then, Mollymauk." 

Molly watches him go. He doesn't jump _at all_ when Yasha comes up behind him and rests her chin between his horns.

"Who was _that,_ Mollymauk?" 

"No one," Molly says hastily. "Profustomer— _fuck_. No. Customer. Professor who wants to be a customer. There's books in the—Yasha don't _laugh_ at me, you know what I mean!" 

Yasha doesn't even pretend to curb her laughter, just drapes her arms around his shoulders. Molly leans back into her, gazing around the cluttered room with a newly appraising eye. 

"It's not a terrible idea," he says. "We could unpack and sell a lot of this shit, just see who will pay what for it. At least we can get rid of some of it and figure out what to do with the rest. It might even be interesting."

"I think your profustomer's little friend stole some things."

"Well, not everything in this junk heap can be worth paying for."

Yasha laughs again, and there's a nervous edge to the happy sound. "So… Molly, do you want to stay?" 

Molly brings his hands up and clasps her arms, the two of them surveying their weird domain of trash and treasure in the middle of a foreign city. "You know, I think we could do worse."


End file.
